"You're smart, for a kid," Josh said, as if he'd just decided it."I'm just a dumb kid like you are," Sam said. Josh waved a hand."Don't even try and pull that bullshit on me, I know you walk around thinking you're smarter than 95% of the population and wishing they'd just shut the hell up.""Takes one to know one," Sam said.

You and Me in a Rowboat to Rio by Punk and SabineIt´s funny with a tiny sheen of angst underneat and ultimately hopeful. Sam gets a paid vacation in Florida. Josh gets to come along after a cactus bribe.

Chance to Make it Realby S.N.KastleIt has a very pretty layout. The times they do it wrong and the time they got it right. Lovely.

You and Me of the 10,000 Wars by Violet and Ellen M.Sam´s story, really, but great characterisation of the lot. I like it because it´s long, well written and the end makes me grin like the end of «Let Bartlet be Bartlet».

The Best Idea Ever by Candle BeckWashington DC´s having a heat wave, so of course Josh´s electricity is dead, and Josh is completely dazed. I love it because it makes me feel like I´m in a heat wave while it´s snowing outside. It´s also pretty funny.

Seaborn for America by SperanzaBecause it´s Seaborn for America, dude. I like the pace of it. I can practically see the characters getting more and more jittery and excited and grinning like crazy people.

Gen and various

A Family Thing by valentineJosh´s dad was an alcoholic. As is Leo. gen.

The Other Half of my Soul by Sheila VRThe first lady is kidnapped. Excellent, episode-like story. Excellent characterizations all around as well. A lot more action than the title makes it sound. het/gen. (thanks to Nomad for the link!)

Sam has a new year´s resolution, the rest of the staff joins in. It made me smile. gen.

Thin Margins by CretKidciting the summary: Oil tankers are not getting where they are supposed to, and the Administration is under the gun (pardon the pun) to come up with a solution. gen, political. Like reading an episode of the show. I liked it a lot, although I skimmed past the most, uh, fact-filled paragraphs.

Retaliation by Scott Fenstermakerciting the summary: The White House tries to hold together a fragile mid-east peace deal while Sam and Ainsley try to nail down a tricky veto statement to a popular bill. gen, political, script. Clever dialogue. I remember it being both funny and dramatic.

VC-25a by Punk and Sabineciting the summary: CJ, Sam, Ainsley, filet of sole, Toby, a raft, some otherpeople, and a room with a glass door, in the great tradition ofexperimental dinner theater. gen. Very funny and quipp-y.

On the Road to the Real Thing by Roo MaphieStarts out stronger than it ends, but it´s still good. At the end, I was more than a little tired of the ´let´s show an event/conversation from the point of view of every character ever´thing, but at the beginning it´s interesting to see the story unfold. gen. Mainly Hoynes and Sam.

Lucy Tockley goes to Anhk Morpork in order to not be a witch, and Vimes is starting to think that maybe, possibly he should do something about all that paperwork... gen. funny, but takes the first chapter to really gear up.

Lost

(disclaimer: I know nada of the canon, just the premise. So the recs are based on, well, how much I like them, not characterization.)

Cat changes his mind and decides that he kinda likes Tonino. Hijinks ensues. Sort of. slash. I´m not entirely sure I agree with the characterizations, but it´s more a point of view thing, than anything being actually wrong. It´s calm and funny in that special Wynne Jones way.

34 recs altogether.

And there should be a Good Omens archive featuring all the good stuff. And if there is, why don´t I know about it?

People should write more funny and slashy Marauder fic. or Draco and Neville. or Harry and Ron.

And people should archive their fics on something that´s not fanfiction.net, because that´s hell to download from. This especially goes for Discworld and Harry Potter fic, by the way.

Somewhere out there, there´s got to be a good Artemis Fowl story. Possibly an Artemis Fowl AU where Artemis a Slytherin, because, um, then he´d take over the world and be a far more efficient Tom Riddle. ...Well, I think it´d be funny.

There should be more Cat/Tonino fic.

There should be, in fact, more funny, plotty, great dialogue-y, long fics in general! Yeah.

Early Hours by Yahtzee. Sirius wonders what hurts Remus the most about the transformation.

Breaking Up The Band part 1, part 2 by Yahtzee. James and Sirius manage to freak out at the same time. Because they're freaks. MWPP + Lily.

What you need by Laura Smith.Sirius sighed. "No, he won't. Well, fuck all. I'm not buying him a sodding book!" He slammed his hand down onto the shelf then looked around at the few people in the shop with them. "I refuse. I won't give in. I'm adamant that there's to be no book buying or giving."

"So what then? Chocolates? Peter always gets him chocolate. You don't want him to mistake your gift for Peter's, do you?"

unreservedly remus by Llama. Four consecutive Saturday nights in the life of Remus J. Lupin as he attempts to come out of his shell… and the closet.

XMEN MOVIE

Cauterize by Sarah T. John, Erik, Scott, Charles, Bobby. John and Erik comes to the Mansion to help rebuild Cerebro. story on lj

Acquiesce by Pablo. Bobby likes honesty... so the next time he sees John, he tells him he wants to fuck him. Sequel is Sunrise/Sunset

Chess, Chicken, and Global Domination by Captnobvious. Bobby, John. In the not-too-distant future, when mutants roam the planet, and Chik-fil-A can easily be found in upstate New York, two boys deal with friendship, loss, and Hasbro's newest favorite game.

Zippo in Hand by Lassiter. John at twelve as his powers emerge. It's cute. In a John-ish sort of way. *g*

The Xavier Mansion Diaries Series by Troll Princess. In other news, took a peek into Erik's head and found out he's sent minion on wild goose chase for mutant to use in nefarious plan. Knowing Erik, mysterious mutant either broody, sexy boy toy or reject from Cartoon Network rerun. Can only hope for the latter, as between Scott and John, have more than the mansion's quota of the former.

He read the X-Men comics long before he knew about the film, much less his being involved in it. He knows the story, but maybe he needs to go back and hunt for the part where Iceman acts like a complete idiot when Pyro leaves. Thankfully that didn’t even make it into the film script.

THE OC

A Bruised Road by K. Ryan and Seth are driving to see Ryan's dad. Love the snatches of music, because it pays out in the end.

“You *watch*, man,” Seth predicted the day before the unit was supposed to begin. “Something will go drastically, dreadfully wrong. I’m talking, like, Golden Apple selling out of 1602 before I get there wrong. Luke joining the Glee Club wrong. Episode Two wrong, even.”

Penguins do it, too by Shoshanna Gold. 'Do you really think people can meet the love of their life at sixteen?' Ryan/Seth.

Popsicle Day by SerialKarma. This was the first Popsicle Day since Ryan had come to live with them, and so far, Seth had learned several things. One was that splashing around in the pool was *way* more fun when there was someone splashing you back.Another was that Ryan, soaking wet and sucking on a cherry popsicle, was the most erotic thing Seth had seen, like, *ever*--and that included Summer in her bra.

Sex Ed by Lalejandra. “Seth, this was the easiest assignment ever. I said, ‘Get Ryan to have sex with us.’ Remember? Easy. Even Coop managed it once before she left.” Summer rolled onto her stomach, plumping her breasts into the deep V of her neckline.

The Secret Language of Blow Jobs by Lalejandra.Ryan put his hand over Seth’s and pushed Seth’s away. He glanced up; Seth was moving, laying on his stomach. He put his face next to Ryan’s. “Look,” he said. “The point of this is to make Luke come before he falls asleep, right? So do it properly, the way you’d want it done to you, right?”

Ryan surreptitiously raises his beer to his lips, escaping the notice of the two girls.

Sequel is:Truth or Dare by Lalejandra. Seth stared into Ryan’s eyes. Ryan lifted his hips a little, and slid down on the bed. Summer and Anna got off the bed; Summer moved to the corner on the other side of Marissa, and Anna sat on the floor and rested her elbows on the bed. Seth licked his lips. He wanted this. He did. He just hadn’t been expecting an audience. He never performed well in front of an audience. Even as a child giving his parents dance-and-song shows in the kitchen, he screwed up what he’d practiced perfectly alone. Seth Cohen was strictly a bathroom shower performer, and he. Well, he didn’t exactly like it that way, but having three girls -- who had all, he assumed, performed this task perfectly -- watch him do this for the first time was nerve-wracking to say the least.

Telegraph Avenue by Zahra. Seth/Ryan, Seth/OC.If Seth were going to be honest about it, which really didn’t happen that often because it was hard to convince other people when he didn’t believe himself, he’d always thought that his crush on Ryan was a one-person thing. Not that he’d thought he was the only person who had a crush on Ryan, more that he’d figured that apart from crushing on Ryan, he was completely straight. 2 * 3 * 4 * 5 * 6 * 7 * 8 * 9 *

Two Cripples Dancing by Zahra. Seth found himself strangely fascinated, but after several seconds he turned to find Ryan eying him curiously.

The pressure was just too much, and Seth blurted out his news like a haywire garbage disposal. “We had sex. Me and Anna. Anna and I. We had sex.” The words sounded foreign, even to him, and he repeated himself just to make sure he’d said it.

After his mouth had stopped spilling the family secrets, Seth eyed Ryan expectantly, waiting.

Kissing Seth Cohen by Zahra.If Seth bites his lip one more time while pretending that Pro Skater 4 really is so fascinating, Ryan is going to have a small aneurysm. He’s tried being patient, really, he has, but it’s not getting him anywhere, and if he keeps waiting for Seth they’ll be getting ready for the retirement home before Seth says anything.

House Rules by Ingrid.Seth settles back on the stool. His spoon waves in the air like a teacher's ruler. "Okay, you have someone over, right? If they stay for breakfast, it's no big deal. And if they stay for lunch, sure, it's a nice day, so you're hanging out and they're just leaving a little bit late. But, if they stay for dinner ... hey, you might have something going there," he says. He puts the spoon down and leans toward Ryan. "And on it goes, until they're there for the second lunch and then, that's it. They're staying." He nudges the jar a little bit closer, his smile as bright as the sun. "So if you take just one bite of that, you are officially a member of the household. Go ahead ... hurry up. So you can stay. Forever."

Superhero Hype by Molly.Ryan is leaning against the car casually, half smirking, one hand resting lightly on Seth's waist. Seth is standing slightly closer to him than straight guy boundaries allow, Anna's well aware of that, but he's not close enough that any suspicions would be raised. Guys sometimes touch each other, after all.

Casually by Ingrid.The pool house is lit only by night lights surrounding the deck. Ryan's exasperated by the lack of curtains or blinds or something to shield them from prying eyes, but to Seth this only makes it hotter.

And funnier, since he's gone from virgin to exhibitionist in five days flat.

House of Healing by Molly.After one semester at USC, Seth had learned two very important things about college. The first was that there was always, always a way to find free beer if you had enough determination. The second was the brutal fact that someone in the residence hall would always be awake and making lots of noise whenever you were trying to sleep. Always. No matter what time of the night it was. Or day, for that matter.

And the day after his last final was case en fucking point.

Go Lightly by Molly. Seth's voice is mature, an inflection she's rarely heard in her son's voice, but she can make out the tremor running beneath it. His fingers are laced through Ryan's as he speaks, and she can't take her eyes away from the easy, comfortable way they're holding onto each other. Ryan's grip is tight and his skin is paler than usual, but it doesn't change the fact that he looks very okay with the way Seth is touching him.

Full Disclosure by Joyfulgirl41.The cloud of steam hanging in the room and the frosted glass of the shower door weren't enough to distort the sight that Ryan beheld. Seth stood there, his head tilted back as the water beat against his chest. Ryan's eyes trailed down, taking in the movement of Seth's shoulder, his arm down to his elbow, down to his fist and fucking hell Ryan couldn't deal with this right now. Something had to give, something, something and Ryan wasn't sure what until the words were out of his mouth.

Reassurance by Joyfulgirl41. Ryan has nightmares. Seth has a creaky floor board.

A Home for Guido by Joyfulgirl41. "I--thanks," Ryan said. "Nobody's ever given me a fish before."

Sequel is:Sometimes a Fish is Just a Fish by Joyfulgirl41. "Well, maybe he had a fish friend who wanted to live in the bowl with him. But then he made out with the fish and then sent him away and started making fins at the fish next-door." So, Seth hadn't really ever been that great with metaphors.

the list of recs which aren't actually myPunks inspiration, although it doubles very nicely as it. *wry* Then again, most things does.

X-Men2

Fundamental Difference of Experience by Kuria Dalmatia. John/Bobby. Pre-slash. St. John's been fucked over a lot in his life and he doesn't quite trust that Xavier's isn't going to do the same. Bobby's bruised and battered and trying to be good, and he's not that much better off, really.

Sunday Worship by Kuria Dalmatia. John/Bobby. Porn with plot, sort of. Hot and angsty if you read between the lines (which is of course where all the fun lies).

Judging AmyFear my Sarcasm by Mosca. Kyle! When I got home tonight, Donna said I looked unusually sad. Like I've got an everyday, baseline level of sad, but today is unusual.

Alias/EverwoodThe Bright Altar Of The Dashboard by Zara. Bright meets Sark. "What's your name?" he asks Bright, and Bright tells him. He holds out his hand to the man, and the man takes it, but does not step into the headlight beam, so Bright is forced to step forward.

"Bright," says the man. He sounds like he's laughing.

"Yeah. I know." Bright is starting to feel a bit annoyed. Here he has stopped and tried to help, and now his name's getting made fun of by a guy who won't even reciprocate. "My mom has weird ideas."

"No no," says the man. "On the contrary. It suits you." Then he pauses and this time, Bright is not sure what the silence means. Then the man says, "My name is Sark."

"All right," shrugs Bright, thinking that the man shouldn't make fun of names, with a name like his. Thinking, but not saying. "And the tire?"

In Norway, Easter is crime-time. So I thought I'd spread this most worthy tradition by making a crime rec page. Under crime there's also horror and ghost stories, so I've included a couple of those as well.

This is about plot, yo.

Well, except the from left field section which is mostly fics that makes me laugh and can be put under 'crime' if you squint...

X-Manson by Benway -- The X-Men. Summary from comicfic.net: Possibly the scariest and most original twist ever written on the residents of the Xavier Institute, this story follows an else-worlds tale (or is it?) in the style of a documentary... painting a picture of Xavier and his followers in a way that will most assuredly astound and disturb you. note: Will scare the socks off you.

Stop All the Clocks by Lazy_neutrino. Author summary: "I thought that love would last forever: 'I was wrong.'"On Harry's sixteenth birthday, he and Lupin are still coming to terms with Sirius' death. But how do you cope when you've lost everything?

Romance amidst the blood

Breathless and Solidarity by Sleeps with Coyotes -- Krycek/Mulder. Case-file. Mytharch. Author summary: BREATHLESS: While Mulder investigates an X-File, Krycek tracks down a runner - but when the two collide, can Mulder and Krycek work through the past and learn to work together? and SOLIDARITY: Krycek ditches Mulder to take an assignment that lands him in the center of the game, but when Mulder is asked to assist a profiler in the same area, the trail leads him into the mountains towards a terrifying secret... note: Creed and Kyler who appear in Solidarity are damn cool, as is the alien. *nods*

Ghosts and Lovers by torch -- Krycek/Mulder. Case-file. Classic. Author summary: GHOSTS: Krycek returns from Russia and seeks Mulder's help in investigating a case. Mulder, Scully and Krycek form an uneasy alliance, but nothing is as it seems in the small town of Leyden Creek. and LOVERS: A former colleague of Mulder's asks for help with a serial killer. Mulder and Scully arrive in San Francisco to find that they aren't the only ones to take a special interest in this case.

In a Dark Time: Sleepless by A. Leigh-Anne Childe -- Krycek/Mulder. Episode based. Author summary: This contains, along with my own original work, all of the "Sleepless" dialogue, transcribed verbatim and complete save for a very few scenes. I’ve altered no line whatsover—despite being on occasion sorely tempted. No plagiarism or copyright infringement is intended. Basically, this represents an attempt to expand on "pre-existing" events and conversations in a logical, continuity-consistent manner. . .

The Gift of an Enemy by Sylvia -- Krycek/Mulder. Casefile. Mulder gets an alien visitor who initiates, er, talks, by offering, according to their tradition, the gift of an enemy. At the same time, Mulder is assigned on a missing persons case in Weimar, Pennsylvania. Pretty damn creepy at times.

Cadenza by Terma99 -- Mulder/OMC. Casefile. Ghosts/horror. Author summary: Mulder and Scully return to San Francisco to protect a cursed violin virtuoso whose life is being threatened by mysteries from his past.note: Love this story.

Lust over Pendle and Dissipation and Despair by AJ Hall -- Draco/Neville. From the author's introduction: Lust Over Pendle is a comedy of manners set in the Golden Age detective thriller genre, and is presumed to take place after the end of the seventh Harry Potter book, and, therefore, after the fall of Voldemort. and for DISSIPATION AND DESPAIR: After offending his Bishop, the Rev. Peter Blakeney had feared he would be stuck for the rest of his career in rough inner city curacies. Even though his letter of appointment bore an anonymous scrawl "Best of British luck", the surprise offer of the incumbency of St Sebastian's Church, Malfoy Intrinsica, Wiltshire seemed like the promise of a rural idyll. And though the foot and mouth epidemic was in full swing, there were sinister carvings behind the choir stalls and all the locals changed the subject immediately if he even mentioned the Manor up the hill (let alone its reclusive Lord) he felt he was settling in well. Until one night there came a tap at his study window, and he found himself caught between two worlds, and about to find out exactly why St Sebastian is the patron saint of archers, enemies of religion, gardeners, murrains of cattle, plagues and police. It is a cosy English village whodunnit in the classic tradition, give or take an Unforgivable curse or so.

from left fieldPartners by Josephine Darcy -- Jim/Blair. Madcap humour.

Which means I read them on a 2cmx2cm screen with screen changes going from 60-200. That takes dedication, good fic and, uh, a good dose of insanity, yes. Does mean that these recs are heartfelt, though. *grins*

Harry Potter

Seven Things That Didn't Happen On Valentine's Day At Hogwarts, Or Maybe They Did by Pru.Seven years of Marauder Valentine's Day pranks? With good dialogue and characterization? What's not to love? Grins Years 6 & 7 are weaker than the rest, but I blame canon for that, not the author. Also, at one point there's a completely adorable and hilarious genderswitch, which, you know, issa kink of mine, so obviously I love it extramuch. ( spoilerbitCollapse ) The ageing of the marauders is done very well, methinks, neither too quick, nor too slow. James dogged (and dumbass) persual of Lily is hilarious, and Remus is sort of gently exasperated, which is how I like him the best, and Sirius acts before he thinks and feels far too much, which is how I like him, and Peter tags along after James. It's all good. Remus/Sirius. 208 screen changes on my beloved cellySam. 444 kb.

Days before by Rae.Post-War, Harry and Draco escape the wizardingworld to heal. Not overly cheerful, naturally, but they get better at the end, and the imagery and language here is lovely. They seem older than their years, but not unrealistically so. Just worn and weary after having seen too much death. ( spoilerbitCollapse ) 60-odd screen changes.

Stealing Harry by Sam. The dialogue is, for the most, utterly a joy to read, especially if it's Sirius and Remus infront of Harry, who's eight and a half, and doesn't understand what the hell they're on about early on. ( spoilerbitCollapse ) It's an AU and it tethers fairly well on the edges of what I'd consider HPWorld Utopia and the canon HP world. Sirius never went to Azkaban is basically the AU premise. Also? Eight and a half year old Harry is a lot more charming than his 11+ year old self. The other characters are also lovely (Snape, the Weasleys, Oliver Wood, etc). Sirius/Remus, but it's a b-plot, rather than an a-plot, if you understand me. WIP 20 chapters up thus far. About 24-34 screen changes per chapter.

So You Want To Transfigure Yourself a Rock Band by Dazzler.It's fluffy, but the characterization is fair enough (nothing extraordinary, but not offencive, you know), and I get a kick out of 'watching' the Marauders go about doing GlamRock, their way. The dialogue is great, too. The romance is a bit 'eh', and the beginning is also 'eh', but once you get past that, it's all shiny, mate. 140-odd screenchanges and I spent most of them snickering.

LOTRrpsProposal by BrendaBecause it made me laugh. Viggo and Orlando are fabulously in love and are getting married. But not really. Snickers 20-odd screen changes.

Master & CommanderThe World Turned Upside Down by shalott.It's genderswitch, but so very well characterized, you'd hardly care (unless you're me, in which case it makes you go 'oooh!'). I've read book one and a couple of chapters of book two thus far, and I think the language and tone of this echoes that canon. It's just Aubrey and Maturin, dude. I can't explain it any other way. Also, I had no idea there was Aubrey/Maturin fics. Now must hunt down more and read. Ohyes.

Queer Eye for the Straigh GuyThings Just Keep Getting Better by Wendi. I don't know the canon, but this is fecking hilarious. The guys get the job of remaking Wally West. 60 screenchanges.

At some point during that hot, awful summer, Harry comes back, abruptly five foot ten of adolescent rage at everything he already knows he's lost. He comes in like a thunderstorm alongside Kingsley and Moody, and the first thing he does is blow Mrs Black through the wall.

Severus and Remus. I like it because the language is so lovely, and the scenes have exactly what they should have and nothing more, and it's hard, but they're healing. and Severus is nasty, as usual. *grins*

Whenever Marcus saw Oliver, he itched. Or something like an itch. Marcus couldn't work it out. There was an odd feeling under his skin, deep in his chest, in the palms of his hands. He wasn't sure what to do about it.

At first he wondered if he wanted to hit Oliver. But Marcus knew exactly how he felt when he wanted to hit someone and this wasn't it. This was ... itchy. And it worried him.

The most beautiful thing I've read in a long while. my love for this cannot be described. Marcus is lovely. *solemn*

Zacharias considered the matter of the amusing Draco Malfoy for a while, and then approached him. He was standing looking up at the Gryffindors practising, and he was making some notes about their practise that were quite clever, and would probably have come in useful if he hadn’t missed out some crucial parts making faces at Harry Potter.

Zacharias sidled discreetly over to him, and came up with the perfect opening line.

“Harry Potter is a bit of a twit,” he observed calmly.

Draco laughed. “Oh, at last a soulmate,” he responded, and then turned around and jumped back. “Ew, a Hufflepuff,” he said faintly. “You’re not allowed to talk to me, are you?”

“It’s not in the school rules,” Zacharias pointed out.

“I knew I should have gone to Durmstrang,” Draco muttered. “All right, go away or get beaten to a pulp. Minions!” he called imperiously. “Minions, where are my… oh for God’s sake, they went off for their second brunch, didn’t they?” He looked pensive. “It’s so hard to find good minions.”

“If I was rich,” Zacharias remarked, hoping that he wasn’t giving him ideas, “I’d hire assassins.”

The suggestion seemed to appeal to Draco, who tilted his head in his direction in a manner that suggested he could one day accept that Zacharias was not taking up air that could be more usefully conserved for Slytherins.

"I'm going over to my parents' this evening; I'll be going past a few kosher shops. Do you want me to pick up anything?" Tony asked, happily accepting yet another mug of tea.

"What?" Ezra said, the smile fading. "Is that why you made a joke about money? That's not very --"

"Hey! Fuck it, you're a suspicious bastard. You go to the West Central Liberal Synagogue like my Auntie Irene, you idiot. Don't tell me she hasn't told you every last detail about me. She goes on enough about you."

"Oh, sorry," Ezra said, his righteous anger quickly replaced by embarrassment. "You're Irene's nephew? Um. I thought -- well, she gave me the impression her nephew Anthony was about twelve years old. She's very proud of your school record, apparently."

"That's Auntie Irene," Tony said dryly. "Me, I was disappointed to find you don't go round singing like an angel all day. You should hear her 'That nice Mr Fell, such a lovely singer. And such a lovely reading voice, why they don't call on him every week, I'm sure I don't know.' You'd better watch it, I think she's set her cap at you."

Blair was actually fitting the key into his ignition when suddenly, it hit him. He did know that guy at the library after all. Oh, man. How could he have forgotten?

Those raised eyebrows. That blank stare. Of course Blair knew him. He was that asshole linguist from the AOS conference five or six years ago. Jackson something. Samuel Jackson. No, that was the actor. Daniel Jackson. God, of course. Remembering their one and only meeting made Blair angry all over again. Come on, would it really have taken him so long to listen to Blair's tape and let him know if the language was actually Domari and whether the speaker was really talking about an ancient tradition of sentinels? Blair wouldn't have asked if it hadn't been important. Besides, it wasn't like you could find people fluent in an endangered Indic diaspora language spoken among formerly itinerant metalworkers in Old Jerusalem just dropping off the trees around here.

But when Blair had asked him about it, Dr. Jackson had only blinked at him, vague and utterly infuriating, and said he wasn't interested.

"Wasn't interested"? What kind of an answer was THAT supposed to have been? It wasn't like Blair had been demanding that he make it his life work. Just asking him to share some of his knowledge, colleague to colleague. A professional courtesy. Obviously Dr. Jackson didn't know the meaning of the word, so it probably wasn't surprising he had ended up five or six years down the road wandering around bewildered and alone on Christmas Eve. Given that his social skills didn't seem to have improved in the intervening years, Blair wondered if the man had any friends at all.

SG-1/Sentinel. Not slash, as such, but following canon so closely, it really doesn't matter.

"Look, Finn, from what you told Carter, this situation is exactly what we're here for. We're the professionals, and we maybe just might be able to contain this. We let civilians into the middle of this, they'll end up dead. Or worse."

"Permission to speak frankly, sir?"

O'Neill blew out his breath. "Spit it out, Finn."

"Colonel, maybe I'm not the best judge ... but if Mister Jackson over there is a soldier, I'll eat my gun belt."

O'Neill blinked, then sighed, then dropped his head. "Oh, for cryin' out loud," he muttered.

Riley tried to smother the small smile crossing his features; he wasn't sure he'd succeeded. "Sir? Should I ... ah ... am I gonna need Worcestershire sauce for my belt?"

Dawn waved excitedly at the tall boy in the restaurant. "There he is, Buffy! Isn't he cute?"

"As a bug's lunchbox."

Dawn recognized the snark in Buffy's voice. "What?" she demanded.

Buffy refused to laugh out loud. "Tall, dark, and loomy. Oh my God, Dawn. Does he brood? Does he help the helpless?"

"What!" Dawn turned a furious startled look on her sister. "He is NOTHING like Angel!" she hissed.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Dawn. If you had to do this Oedipal thing, couldn't you have picked a handsome Brit with glasses and a guitar?"

"Shut up! And behave yourself! And you only ever had less than one year of Psych 101, and that was taught by a mad scientist who tried to kill you!"

Seriously, Clark and Lex even manage to be gay when they're trying to get dates with the Summers' women. *headshakes* I love these stories far more than I think I should, but the characterization is very good and the plots are pretty together. Except the first one, which, well, isn't much other than a date, really, but the two sequels have plots! Fish people returns and praying mantis woman. *beams*

"No, but killing him won't be on the agenda tonight," he said as he patted his pockets, looking for smokes.

"Why not?" She still hadn't relaxed her position. She was ready to twist its neck as soon as Spike got to whatever point he was wandering around.

"Some Chosen One you are. Look at what they're wearing." He found the pack and his lighter, then tapped out a cigarette, packing it down on the hard pack.

She looked again. There were different colors, but they all wore the same uniform. Except for the might-be demon — she was wearing some godawful purple unitard.

"Now look at what your bloke's wearing," he said in a slow sing-song designed for maximum snark. He lifted the cigarette to his mouth and lit it.

She looked down. He had on the same kind of uniform as the others. "So? Maybe they're a branch of the Initiative."

He growled. "No, you stupid bint! They are not Initiative. Fer Chrissakes, you've known Harris how long and you still haven't put two and two together? How many times has he dragged you sorry lot over for a marathon?"

She looked puzzled at first, then comprehension dawned slowly. "Oh. Which one is this?"

"I think it's the second — yep. There's the wanker with the beard. It's the second one."

She looked down at the demon — no, it's a Klingon? — and said, "Um, Spike? Suggestions?"

"You got a tiger by the toe, pet. If he hollers, let him go," he said before he burst out laughing.

Takeshi managed to: beg and wheedle Anarchy to letting him borrow the Jeep ("Ya can't borrow it, ya don't know how to drive stick!" "I do too know how to drive stick, my mum's car is a stick shift, and I learned to drive on that junk heap!"), escape Chiclet's ministrations in the clothing department ("Takeshi, you just can't wear that!" "Yes I can…") and completely ignore Tybalt ("Now, sweetie-pumpkin, be home by 10:00, or I'm calling your Mom!" "…") by 6:47 PM, at which time he sprinted out the door with Anarchy's key ring, dressed in a blue turtleneck, black slacks, and a long black duster, heading full speed towards the parking lot.

Takeshi and Kael are cute in the beginning as they become a couple, and then Anarchy becomes interesting as he gets more of the spotlight, and I really like Takeshi's friends; Chiclet, Tybalt, Anarchy and Tictac. *beams* I think, in fact, that Chiclet and Tictac are one of the few het couples I'm actually beaming at. huh. and! Now I'm all about the Tybalt/Anarchy possible love. Because Anarchy is a very funny goth-like-person. yup.

DOCTOR: PEOPLE, WE'VE GOT A MAJOR EMERGENCY HERE! KING CALAMARI AND HIS SQUID LEGIONS ARE ABOUT TO MAKE THE CARRIER INTO THEIR VERY OWN SPACE YACHT. SO UNLESS YOU WANT TO ROOM WITH WALKING SUSHI, YOU'LL SHUT UP!

Field Trip is an Authority story in four parts. Only the first one is up so far, but it's very good and funny, and I rather like the characterizations. and the fish. It's written in script form, but if you take a moment to adjust, it works very well. *Looks at page* Oh. It has a bloody stupid background picture and white text, but, okay, if you get Silverlake, it was posted 3. august. Just saying.

I found a pretty decent Draco/Severus! Far too short, and from Harry's point of view, but still! Go read This Living Hand by Millefiori. :)

Also Lise has a new part to her Marauder series up. It's called Let Sleeping Dogs Lie, and it's very good. Summary: James decides he has to do something drastic to counter current events; tension in the school heats up. (very mild OotP spoilers) [131k]

found Midnight by the Weasley Watch by excessivelyperky through a new rec page and I really like it. It has a lot of Ron, Chess and Severus. Lots of chess. Fascinating chess. Fascinating new characters as well. All around fascinating. But, uh, you'd have to have at least a basic knowledge of chess in order to read this, I'd think.

les mis/go

Les Omens by Jenelin. I've seen most of the Les Miserable film now, but I still can't say whether or not the characterizations in Les Omens are dead on or not. However I can tell you that the Four Horsepersons and Aziraphale and Crowley definitely are dead on.

There was Something in Paris that day. It filled the air at the funeral. It lurked in the corners of small winding streets. It coated the paving stones. Something stood by the dirty gamin. Something watched the tall policeman. Something surrounded the hopeful student. Something was everywhere, and when Something spoke, in a skeletal voice, it said, IT'S GOING TO BE A BUSY DAY.

Repo Men is greatly characterizised, has some very witty one liners, and, Van is his usual adorable twat self, Deaq still deserves a medal for not killing him every two minutes, Dom is just *grins widely*, Brian's a kittycat and why Billie haven't kicked their collective arses is a mystery. *big grin*

films1. Himmelfall (Sky is falling) -- Joner is still great. *happy sigh* Bizarre film about the patients at a mental institution. Low-key, pretty enjoyable (did I mention Kristoffer Joner's in it?), ensamble. Norwegian.

2. Footloose -- Still horribly gay in parts. I keep rewinding the scene where Ren teaches Willard to dance. Teehee. It's a bit dumb and silly 80's movie, but hey, it's enjoyable, and some of the characters even have layers! And did I mention the gay?

Harry Potterthe fics I love and are the reason I haven't abandoned the fandom completely. Because, you see, I don't really have that much interest in it, but fics like these just make me come back for more. I'm such a fic-slut, yo.

The Slytherin table was bare. Draco had no idea of how to get coffee. And Draco absolutely, positively had to have coffee.

Granger took a sip from a cup.

Draco only just stopped himself from going completely feral. He took several deep, calming breaths.

I will not torture the information out of her. I will not seize the cup and try to lick the bottom. I will retain some aspect of my dignity.

I want coffee I want coffee I want coffee!

"Oh, Granger?" he drawled in his most unconcerned tones. "How would one go about getting served at this damnable hour?"

Coffee, wailed his utterly spoiled inner child. Right now!

Granger was looking up at him with a slight frown. "In six years, you've never once gotten up early to study? How in the name of God did you get to be a prefect?"

Why are you wasting my time, woman? Give me coffee!

"I study like a normal person," Draco said between gritted teeth. "At night."

"Yes, I can see you're not exactly an early bird," she sniffed. "Are you aware that your robes are in a state and you haven't brushed your hair?"

"And yet it still looks better than yours...Look, Granger, I don't have time for this. I just want some coffee! All I want in the world is some coffee! If I had one wish, it would be for coffee!"

That wasn't dignified.

3. Flame and Shadow by Maya. Ron was woken by the sound of someone knocking on the door. He knew it was probably Miles with the offer of a lift to work. The bastard kept muttering about incognito and Muggles in the block and how taking the car with him was better than Flooing every day, and he never realised that Ron came close to murder every Monday.

"Go AWAY!" he bellowed, keeping his head under the covers.

The knocking continued. Damn Miles.

Which was when the covers moved.

"SHOVE OFF!" screamed a female voice.

The knocking stopped abruptly, but that didn't help as Ron moved abruptly and then a tom-tom started up in Ron's head.

Trying frantically to think past the blood pounding in his ears, he stared down at the cross, screwed-up face of Pansy Parkinson.

Last night. Oh, God. Oh, hell.

"Oh, gross!"

Pansy looked up at him, blinked in brief confusion and then grimaced.

"Oh, no," she said. "Oh, my God. I did Ron Weasley! How am I going to look anyone in the face ever again?"

Rita Skeeter bit completely through the end of her quill, Narcissa gazed into the middle distance with the Look that Celestina Warbeck had once described as 'having the serene remote beauty of an Alaskan peak" and Rita had dubbed "the stunned albatross expression", and Camilleri bent over his photographic kit, apparently suffering from an acute sneezing fit. Mrs Longbottom straightened the vulture by half an inch or so, smiled in a satisfied way, and said

"Anyway, I mustn't interfere. Do go on."

6. Lustre by Calico and Julad.Draco stretches out his arm languorously, fingers spread wide, enjoying the way Crabbe and Goyle flinch and back away. They have no appreciation for the truly aesthetic. Draco closes his eyes briefly as the cool silky weight around his neck shifts, gliding down his arm and weaving round his fingers. This is beyond wonderful.

"Isn't she marvellous?" he murmurs, and hears Crabbe gulp. "My father sent her. Very rare, of course. And extremely expensive."

"Great," Goyle blurts, and Draco smiles to himself. It truly is. He becomes aware of other interested Slytherins casually turning up at his table to hover, and pretends not to notice them just yet. It's surprisingly easy to ignore them, as he lounges in an armchair with a corculus anguisa wound lovingly around his fingers.

He turns his hand over and admires the silvery shimmer as the snake winds itself over his palm to rest her little wedge head on the back of his hand. She's long enough to wrap five times around his wrist, or twice round his neck with a curl of tail trailing against his collarbone, and she's slender as his thumb for the most part, tapering down to a single scale's-width at one end and a tiny snub muzzle at the other.

7. Potio by Seeker.Keeping his head down, hair falling over his face, shielding it from the passers-by, he kept as much in the shadow as he could. It was a weekday, the foot traffic was light, and he went unchallenged by any strangers who might have known him from his old life. The one he didn't know, and was determined to discover. A creaking sign above the walk declared one tall dusty building a bookshop, and he decided that was as good a place to begin his search as any.

There were newspapers in the front, with pictures whose inhabitants peered and made rude gestures at him. His brow wrinkled as he stared down at them. Did everyone hate him? Perhaps it was as well he didn't know who he'd been, if that was the reaction he got. Still, he couldn't begin to build his new life until he knew what he was leaving behind, so he headed for the shelves. Perhaps his books, the ones they'd not let him read, would give him some clues.

He couldn't find them. He tried fiction, since the doctor had said they were, but there were no Lockharts to be found. He tried humor, since so many people laughed at him, but they weren't there either. Staring around at the various categories of non-fiction, he sighed. He had no idea where to start.

"Help ya, sir?" a thin voice piped up behind him. He turned with a grateful smile. The proprietor of the bookshop, a very tall, very thin man wearing a black gown, winced and glanced away.

He knew why. The scars along the side of his face were a constant ache now. Trying to ignore the book seller's reaction, he asked tentatively, "I was looking for books by Gilderoy Lockhart. D'you have any?"

The man's laughter sounded genuine. "Looking for a good laugh, eh? Right you are then, they're back here with the remainders. Sell you the whole series for dirt cheap. Nobody wants 'em now it's out what a fraud he was."

He swallowed heavily. He was a fraud? Biting back the questions bursting at his lips, he simply picked up one of each of the severely down-marked books from the huge pile and stuffed them into his pack. The proprietor rang up his purchase, less than three coins to pay for the lot, and waved him on his way without ever looking at his face again.

Not that it would have mattered. Settled at a table in the back of a dark pub, staring at the photograph smirking and winking at him from the back of the book, he knew no one would look at the wreck he was and see the golden beauty he had been. Although from what he'd heard, from several sources, that beauty was as false as the scars on his face were real.

The waitress came over, took his order, tried not to make it obvious that she was disturbed by his face, and left without attempting small talk. It was just as well. He had a lot of reading to do and was in no mood to see any more pity from anyone.

But Malfoy didn't even pause. "It's not just the Slytherins, either. Look at Ravenclaw. Nothing but precocious smart-alecks. And Hufflepuff -- they're about to expire from sheer earnestness." Harry could hear Hermione trying to stifle a giggle.

Now McGonagall was giving the students the usual cautions -- no going into the Forbidden Forest, no venturing out after curfew. Rather more than the usual cautions, in fact. "You'll see barriers in places which are still considered unsafe. In particular, the old Potions wing is off limits to all students and staff as well. I cannot stress strongly enough how important it is to heed any barriers you see. Any student caught trying to cross a barrier will be expelled immediately." Harry looked around, hoping the barriers would be easy to spot; he hadn't seen any yet.

"The Gryffindors are all right -- as all right as Gryffindors ever get, anyway," Malfoy went on, nodding at Lupin, "because Fenris understands the history of the place." Harry set his teeth at the cruel nickname. "But the rest of the houses -- look at them. I told you so, 'Mione. They're parodies of themselves."

Hermione shot Harry a fondly impatient look over Malfoy's head. "Draco believes the Sorting Hat is somehow reacting to the wishes of the Heads of House," she said. "And he's not happy with the Headmistress's choices for Heads."

There was no need to wonder who Malfoy thought was a better candidate for Slytherin head, Harry thought as the table was cleared for dessert -- no, wait, pudding.

A Malfoy was out for himself, first, last, and always. It was strangely reassuring to know some things hadn't changed.

9. Harry Potter and the Polka Dot Plague by Mariner.A number of people were talking excitedly in the next room. Harry couldn't quite hear what they were saying, but he could make out Madam Pomfrey's voice, and Professor Dumbledore's, as well as two others he couldn't recognize. Everyone sounded extremely upset. Harry was just starting to wonder if it was worth the effort to get out of bed and try to see what was happening, when the door flew open. Madam Pomfrey rushed in, followed by Dumbledore, followed by - Harry sat straight up in shock - Crabbe and Goyle, supporting an extremely disheveled Professor Snape between them.

Snape's black hair looked greasier than ever, and his skin was streaked and shiny with sweat. He was wearing his robes over a gray nightshirt, both of which were rather singed, and there were black smudge marks on his face, as if he'd once again stood too close to one of Neville's exploding cauldrons. Crabbe and Goyle dragged him over to the empty bed and lifted him up onto it, grunting in unison. Madam Pomfrey immediately herded them toward the exit, muttering about quarantine again. They went obediently enough at first, then stopped in the doorway and glanced back over their shoulders with identical frowning expressions.

"He'll be all right," Goyle said, "won't he?"

Harry couldn't help but stare. In the four years since he'd first met Crabbe and Goyle, this was the first time he could recall hearing either one of them speak. Usually they just stood around and sniggered while Malfoy did the talking.

"Of course he'll be all right," Madam Pomfrey said firmly. "Now go and tell that to the rest of the Slytherins. And tell them absolutely no visitors, so it's no use anyone trying." She pushed them out the door and hurried out after them.

Snape fell back onto the pillows with a groan. He looked really awful. His nightshirt gaped open at the throat, revealing a dense and extremely colorful pattern of polka dots.

"Potter…" Snape's voice was slurred and his eyes looked dazed when he glared at Harry across the gap between their beds. "Fifty points from Gryffindor."

Riley concentrates. It's like an itch at the back of his head, as if his hair wanted to sneeze. His fingers tingle and blue-white light pours out of them. He's stripped off his clothes and is standing barefoot in his boxers, sweat dripping off him. He's been practising the damn spell for two hours now and when the light streams out, it's a rush, a low, sweet rush that sends his heart racing and leaves him feeling like he's run a marathon.

Draco does this without any visible effort. Waves his hand and incinerates the target. So far, Riley's singed the edges.

The light fades. He drops his arms and collapses on the floor. The stone flags are blessedly cold. He's thirsty, hungry and the Army never said this was going to be so fucking difficult. Military advisor to a group of English wizards. He'd always thought Giles was weird, and now he's convinced they're all freaks.

"Get up, Riley." Draco toes him in the side. He opens his eyes and looks up. Graham, the fucker, assigned himself to Harry Potter. Flying around on broomsticks and drinking butterbeer, he said. Gossip added a Ms Granger to the list, while Riley's stuck with Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy fortune and private army.

Two weeks he's been trapped in the rambling castle, unable to wander about on his own. House-elves shadowing him everywhere, locked doors and paintings that not only watch him, but scream at him. He's taken to showering in the dark.

The first day, Harry Potter, a skinny dark-haired kid who looked strung out on nerves or crack, had been there to talk to Draco. Riley wishes he'd paid more attention, but he'd been a little on edge himself. No broomsticks, but Draco's driving was worse than Buffy's, and there'd been a damn dragon on a leash outside the front entrance.

Arguments the first day with names he didn't know, half of it just plain hissing that the two of them looked like they understood. A disappearance before dinner that left them dishevelled. Riley could put two and two together. It helped that Draco was so fair that his stubble burn could be seen across the room.

Potter had stormed off after Draco tried again to get rid of Riley. Draco, whip-tight with tension, had waited at a window. Riley waited a while, then went back to his room to check his email.

Two hours later, a sharp rap on the door and he'd staggered out of bed to open the door. Draco, a silver-scaled hood drawn over him, and a softly growled command. "Come and learn. If I have to keep you, you'd better be good."

11. Scrabble by MartianHousecat.Malfoy sneered at his competition and drew his wand. He shifted his gaze from the others and turned it to the difficult task at hand - getting new letters. The gold letter bag sat quiescently for now, so he slowly inched his left hand towards it.

A hush fell on the spectators and some vainly tried to push closer, but were neatly stopped by Crabbe and Goyle, who, like always, worked the crowd.

"Come on," he whispered under his breath. The game had been underway for several hours now - the scores only as low as they were due to the usually counter-cheating - and the bag was getting testy. This would take finesse, but luckily he'd enough of that to charm every girl in the year, and enough left over to start in on the boys. Assuming that Parkinson didn't gut him after the first.

His fingers brushed against the shiny fabric and it rustled restlessly, still playing coy. In one smooth, practiced motion he brought he hand down against the bag, hard, and shot off a stunning spell. The bag, being sneaky, managed to curl enough of itself away just in time, and flapped in his grip, trying to break free.

He managed to wrestle it flat against the table, one handed, but it successfully dodged his every spell.

Then, every Scrabble player's worst nightmare happened - the bag went on attack.

He shrieked in fright, as it slipped from his fingers and launched itself at his face. Oh no, he thought. Not the face. Ruthlessly, the bag scratched its rough side against his delicate complexion and its corners smacked him like four tiny, embroidered fists. In panic now, he tried to rip it from his face, pulling and tugging and even trying to shred it with his short nails. But all was to no avail.

Finally, admitting defeat, he signaled that he wanted to take his last time out, by waving his hands madly and kicking his feet. A gong sounded and the bag hopped off his face. Malfoy, by this time half-suffocated, sucked in a long, shuddering breath and glared at it. It just waved a corner and toddled off, back to its resting place.

He fell back to the floor and lay still, not capable of much else. Madame Pomfrey rushed to his side and quickly checked him over, all the while muttering about Mad Snakes and silly games. "You seem to be fine, Mr. Malfoy, but I wouldn't suggest another go with the bag."

"How do you suggest I play, then?" he sneered. "Oh I know, maybe if I ask it nicely, it'll give up letters!"

"Perhaps," she said, clearly short of patience. "You should stop playing." A collective gasp sounded from the crowd.

"Are you mad, woman?" Zabini jumped to his feet, waving his letter holder. "We are Slytherin, and therefore we play!" Cheers sounded, all over the common room and chants of 'Go Malfoy' and 'Za-bi-bi' swelled. Bulstrode and Parkinson's supporters, not to be outdone, added their voices to the clamor.

12. the Familiar by Resonant.Snape set the frog on the table in his sitting room. It regarded him through its ridiculous spectacles.

He fetched the largest shallow bowl he could find, washed it well, and filled it with water. He lifted the frog in. It splashed into the shallow water and looked at him expectantly.

Snape sighed. "Accio housefly," he said, tapping his cupped palm with his wand.

The frog sat in the water and blinked at him. Oddly, the spectacles appeared to have lost their earpieces in the transformation. Just as well, as the creature now had no ears. Through the tiny lenses, the frog's green eyes looked at him moistly and without complaint.

"Hmph," Snape said aloud. "It's an improvement, if you ask me."

13. the Lodger by Mad Martha.At one point the little witch managed to pull Harry to one side, whispering frantically that she was so sorry, she hadn't known what to do, it had been so difficult finding this gentleman somewhere to live .... It was Harry's private opinion that her employers were the most unprincipled pigs in the trade if they could drop a hot potato like this in a junior employee's lap and expect her to deal with it. It didn't take a genius to work out why Draco Malfoy was a difficult customer, after all. What Harry wasn't sure he understood was why he was looking for a room to rent in the first place.

The room in question was the big guest bedroom Dumbledore had stayed in once or twice. It was pleasantly furnished and had an en-suite bathroom. Digging his hands into his pockets, Harry watched Malfoy for a few minutes as he looked over it silently, then said "Well?"

Malfoy turned to look at him. His face was as mask-like and inscrutable as it had been at his trial. "Why did you set the rent so low? Who were you expecting to turn up?"

Harry shrugged, a little surprised at the question. "I'm not renting it out for the money. And I didn't really expect anyone to turn up."

Miss Gabelot made a tiny sound of protest which both men ignored. Malfoy seemed to be turning Harry's response over in his mind, silently digesting it. From the look on his face Harry guessed that he wasn't buying it, although it was, in fact, the complete truth.

Finally he said, "All right."

Harry nodded. "Good. I'll give you a set of keys and you can move in whenever you like."

"Now?" That was almost a challenge.

When Harry raised a brow at him, Malfoy pulled a small package out of his pocket; a spell-shrunken bundle of luggage. For a moment Harry was reminded of Ron's zipped cat. For all he knew, Malfoy's parcel could include a zipped House-elf; the idea was almost funny.

He nodded again. "That's fine." He turned to the relieved agent. "Do you have the contracts?"

14. Third Eye, Third Sister by Orphne.Later, at Hogwarts, she lived in the dungeons, which felt much like a cave, she thought. When she spoke, the echoes returned in hollow whispers, but she never wrote down or spoke of what she heard. She dreamed too, back then--of Dark Lords and curses and the ruins of Hogwarts. In class, she sometimes spoke in tongues long forgotten and not yet born. In her bed at night, she would ghost her fingertips against the rise of her forehead, and feel the shadow of a third eye, dry and lidless. It never blinked, it never closed, and it never slept.

She learned that she could not change what she Saw, and had accepted it. Sixth year, after she Saw Myrtle Maltpress fall against the toilets, body stiff, she had helped her with Divination the day before she died. After she Saw Tom Riddle murder his Muggle father, she had told him that he could copy her Charms' assignment for that day since he wouldn't have the time to do it himself. Years later, when she Saw Voldemort fall by the will of an infant, she had sent him a note wishing him A Happy Halloween.

After Voldemort fell, she moved to the top of the North Tower.

She is old now. The smoke in her rooms sheathes a film over her eyes, and she rarely dreams. In her old age, she has taken up weaving. In the evenings, she presses her spindle-like body against the loom and runs her hands over the wooden frame, embracing it as an old lover.

In her old age, she has grown sentimental.

15. Dancing Queen by Maya.“My, what a surprise,” [Draco] drawled, running a negligent hand through his hair. Harry noticed that his nails were painted silver. “What are you doing here?”

“Fancy,” said Malfoy, and his eyes were caught by something over Harry’s shoulder. Harry recognised the suddenly glazed look in them as the look of someone who had been blindsided by the pants.

“And this is my cousin,” he said wearily, preparing for the Great Mockery.

“Wow, Harry,” Dudley said in his ear. “You work fast, don’t you? What a pair. God, look at the blond!”

Harry numbly accepted the Bacardi Breezer, wondering if he’d feel better if he was drunk.

Dudley still had his eyes on the graceful line of Malfoy’s throat and – well, the graceful line of Malfoy’s everything, Harry supposed - and he said in awed tones, “Mmm, pretty,” which wasn’t something Harry had ever wanted to hear about Draco Malfoy’s anything.

“Are you straight?” Malfoy inquired suddenly.

“Yes,” Harry said in fear and with all the vehemence he could summon up.

Malfoy beamed. “What a coincidence,” he said. “Me too.”

“Oh God, not another one,” Dudley said.

Blaise made an exasperated noise. “No you’re not, Draco.”

“Am too,” Malfoy asserted.

“Draco, you were just dancing onstage and being smeared with glitter as a drag queen licked your bellybutton!”

16. Thing by Cimorene and Wax Jism.The frost-bitten morning turns into a rainy afternoon, pelting liquid ice into his hair, seeping into his boots and turning his hands into numb, useless clumps. The city is too busy for a dog; he can't hide in Padfoot's sturdy body, has to make do with this scrawny human shape that shivers and stumbles through the puddles. The rain is, at least, an excuse to keep the collar of his stolen coat turned up to hide his face from the cold, from curious eyes. There is a map on a wall, marked with an I, a small, red dot to say you are here.

"Thank you," he mutters at the map, but it's a Muggle map and doesn't reply. He follows the unfamiliar streets through unfamiliar neighbourhoods. He knows the Tube or a bus would take him closer, faster, but he has no money and no wand to charm the Muggles into giving him a ride, so he walks and walks. There are uniformed policemen in the streets here, and he doesn't dare steal anything. The papers show him no pictures of himself, so he walks taller. He's tired of cowering like a sick cur.

It's still hard to dig out the good memories - what the Dementors couldn't find he's hidden so deep that even he can't search them out. He'd rather not think than remember the bad things.

He notices jolly red and green and gold in the display windows along the street, and realises that Christmas is coming. Or here already. He's not even sure what month it is. He remembers another Christmas in London, a young, red-cheeked Remus next to him, James' laughter, cramming dirty snow down the back of Lily's coat, arms catching him and swinging him around.

James' voice saying, "Oi, Sirius, you slag!"

To stop himself from thinking about James - how can thirteen years disappear like a mist and the return pain bright sharp cold clawing through him - he thinks about Harry. Lily's eyes in a face that's softer and prettier than James' ever was, but the hair is Potter hair and those same glasses that Remus and Lily said made him look like one of the Beatles. Sirius can't remember the names of the Beatles. Remus must know. He can ask. Soon.

17. Playtime by Keieru.Of a sudden, another boy appeared, crashing through the trees. He was a blur of wild sunbright hair, with dark clothes tailored to his slim young body. He didn't see Gregory and Vincent until he was almost upon them, and he fell heavily into the dirt when he tried to skid to a stop. "Ouch!" he cried, landing hard on his side. "Oh, look at that, my robes are torn already and this one is new, I bet Mother's going to throw an fit when she sees -- you must be Mr. Crabbe's son, and you're Mr. Goyle's, aren't you? You lot look just like them." He gazed up at them from the ground, pale eyes catching the afternoon sunlight. "Hi, I'm Draco Malfoy. This is my father's house."

Gregory stood silent, dazed by the sudden rush of words. Vincent was staring at the newcomer as well, his mouth gaping slightly open.

Draco Malfoy seemed to be in constant motion, looking around with quick shifts of his eyes, legs fidgeting, arms brushing off his robes, never keeping still. His quicksilver presence wrapped around them, animated and bright, bringing a curious sort of sparkle.

It was as if the world instantly became more interesting, with this swift-talking shining boy in it. Perhaps that was why Gregory reached out, holding out a heavy hand that somehow seemed too broad and solid, to help the boy up. Vincent reached out at the same time. Draco Malfoy accepted with a quick flashing smile, his slender hands grasping theirs, and together they pulled him to his feet.

"Your fathers are inside, with Father's other friends." Draco pointed towards the mansion. "Why're you two just standing out here? It's hot in summer."

Gregory blinked. He hadn't even considered moving.

"Da left me here," Vincent volunteered. Gregory nodded in agreement.

"They wouldn't mind if you came inside," Draco said with an engaging grin. "Come along, there's food, and I can't eat lunch by myself, it would be ever so boring. Mother says I never eat enough anyway, come on, besides it's too hot out here -" and before they knew it, Draco Malfoy was tugging at their hands to follow him.

Gregory exchanged a puzzled glance with Vincent. They followed docilely after the small talkative boy, who was babbling ceaselessly about cold drinks and sunburn.

18. the Almost Legend of Draco Malfoy by Zahra.Draco Malfoy never wanted to do great things: they required too much effort. Great things took time and dedication, and inevitably were extraordinarily messy. Voldemort had been required to kill several hundreds of people before anyone noticed him, and Draco wasn‘t interested in doing that much work. Blood was impossible to get out any sort of quality robes, and Muggles simply weren’t that important to him. Draco didn’t have any great cause that fired his blood or called for him to use the Forbidden Curses. He certainly never wanted to be anybody’s hero – the word alone had so many negative connotations that Draco would have been appalled if anyone had even used it in the same sentence as his name. All Draco really wanted was to do what he wanted, when he wanted, with the minimal amount of fuss on his part and the maximum amount of pain to everybody else.

Draco was never ‘good.’ He was never ‘confused’ or ‘concerned.’ He never had a crisis of conscience or faith.

Draco never had faith to begin with.

At the end of the day, he didn’t give a toss.

Draco looked out for himself, and everyone else was irrelevant.

19. Come Shots by Kate Bolin, art by Glockgal.Parvati's getting dirt on her knees. That's the only thing Hermione can think about as she's gripping the edge of the table, nails digging into the humidity-softened wood. Parvati's getting dirt on her knees and Parvati's hands are pushing apart her thighs and Parvati's head is under her skirt and Parvati's mouth...oh...

She can hear the plants rustling in the pots next to her, and she wants to reach into their pots, lifting up handfuls of dirt and compost and squeezing squeezing squeezing as she comes, dirt under her fingernails and Parvati against her clit. She can't grab the plants, she can't do anything but grab the table, because the table's holding her up, her hands are keeping her up, she can let go with one hand and lift up her skirt and run her hand through Parvati's long cascade of hair and press her closer and to the left and just so and...and...and...

She falls back against the table, knocking over one of the ferns, arching her back and moaning loudly, leaves and branches tangling in her hair. Parvati is kissing her thighs gently, her knees still on the ground, dirty and bruised.

You think only pretty girls get love stories? There aren't enough of them to make the world go round. There aren't enough of them to fill a shoebox.

There's the rest of that want out there, nipping at smooth heels and calloused ones. Tightly strung wards and booby traps in the basement, just waiting for you to step into the parlor and sit your ass down. It'll settle if it needs to, will take your fingernails bitten and your toes packed in wrong. It'll whisper you promises.

There's enough for a pug faced girl, with thick thighs and broad shoulders; if love has time for Malfoy, it can fit in anyone.

"Ignore the ones of Lance. I brought those to show him so he can give me permission to enter them in a competition."

"They're good." Nick looked at the second one, taken just as Lance looked up, which JC had barely glanced at except to comment on his eye colour. "Fuck, he is a suspicious bastard."

"Apparently."

"Hmmm." Nick looked at the two best pictures of Chris and AJ then flicked through the selection of animal shots.

Justin stared at the walls of Nick's office and decided that they were really boring. JC would have wilted at the sight of them. But then, JC thought that a bare wall was a crime against God and pieces of paper with writing on them didn't count.

"They are." He could take pictures of them all day. Preferably naked, but whatever worked.

"No, they're mostly minions of Satan sent to make my life hell. Kind of fun, though."

FireflyI like to call this collection "Jayne is hot, yo".

1. Big Damned Zombies, Sir by Shrift."What seems to be the trouble?" Mal asked, watching Jayne shuffle along real slow. He was looking more perplexed than Mal had ever seen him, although technically speaking, Jayne didn't look terribly perplexed all that often due to a significant lack deep thought on his part. The big guy lurched sideways and slammed his shoulder into the wall, then just kept going without making a sound. Mal winced; he knew Jayne was no sissy, but that one was definitely gonna leave a mark.

Mal followed her, motioning at the others to stay back. "The who now?"

"Brains," she said again. "All he's said since I found him in the cargo bay, sir."

Mal stared at her for a good while, but Zoe's poker face didn't fold. "Huh. Well, ain't that something."

"Oh my god," Wash said in mock horror. "Jayne's been zombified!"

"C'mon, Wash, that's just --" Mal started to argue, then stopped right quick when Zoe quirked an eyebrow. "Zombified?"

"Don't rightly know," Zoe said, watching Jayne raggedly turn the corner that led to the crew quarters. "Could be he's been zombified."

"Ain't no such thing," Mal scoffed.

"Braaaiiins," Jayne said, and fell down the ladder leading to his quarters.

Mal stood over the ladder and looked down, his head tilted in sympathy. "Okay, so maybe Jayne got himself zombified. Is his neck supposed to bend like that?"

Mal climbed down the ladder when Jayne managed to get to his feet and shuffle into his room. Zoe dropped down beside him, and they found Jayne kneeling on his bunk and clutching his gun to his chest like a teddy bear.

"Look at that," Mal said, grinning at Zoe. "Guess Jayne came back for Vera. Suppose there's no reason he'd wanna leave behind his favorite lady just 'cause of a nasty case of zombification."

2. Unchained Melody by Bonibaru.You're more devoted to Vera than you've ever been to anything in your poor-ass excuse for a life. You can feel through your fingertips when she needs extra attention. You take her apart with gentle hands, reverently laying each piece out on the bed. You dip a cloth patch in cleaning solvent, fix it in place, then push the jag slowly into her barrel. You swirl it around, feeling your way down the tight length. The better you make it fit, the more firing residue you get out, so you make sure it's always as tight as you can get it because your life depends on a gun that fires clean. Ten times you slide the lubricating patches through in a firm, steady rhythm, loosening the copper fouling and making her insides all slick and shiny smooth again. In and out slowly ten times more with a clean, dry patch finishes her off and she shines like new when you put her back together again.

3. Tetchy by Debchan.Jayne smirked at Simon all through lunch and asked pointed questions about how he found his chair. Not too hard, was it, and did he need a cushion, and hey, was that epoxy he smelled?

He stopped smiling about four bites into his stew. He was mid fifth bite when his eyes rolled up in his head and he pitched face first into his plate.

Everyone at the table paused and stared, first at Jayne, then at Simon, who carefully set his fork down and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin. "Oh dear," he said casually. "Stew must be off."

Once Jayne regained consciousness, Simon anxiously waited for the other shoe to drop. But when nothing unusual happened for a few days, and he began to allow himself to relax. This, he realized, was a tactical error, when he found the door to the head in his berth had been welded shut while he'd been bathing.

"You shouldn't have drugged him," Kaylee told him through her welder's mask two hours later.

Barely covered by a towel and shivering, Simon brushed past her and grabbed a robe from his bed.

"No? Really?"

She must have missed the sarcasm, or else his teeth were chattering too much to make it comprehensible, because she nodded and added, "Too nice. Guys like Jayne need something a little stronger. You know, to make a point."

"She was gonna kill me!" Jayne presents his bloodied arm for evidence, but the doctor is unconcerned as he mutely offers a long strip of dermal weave. His posture and attitude say what he will not; that he's bled for River before and would do it again. Instantly. Without question.

Jayne realizes that Simon expects the same from him. He stares. "Well. That's a helluva lot to ask."

Especially from me, goes unsaid. Too, there is the niggling truth, shredding away at him with spiteful little fangs, that Simon would rather see him shot than River. Perfectly understandable, yet bitter all the same. Not that they had ever agreed on terms anyway, and the word love had yet to take the stage and make a bow, but it hurts to see yourself ranked and fall short.

He nods slowly, his mouth curled in, the lower lip tucked in his teeth as if retreating from harm. "I gotta think about this."

He whispers it like it explains everything, then sees that Jayne needs more, needs words, memories, fragments of a past he's trying to bury.

Again, he turns away, ignoring the rasp of Jayne's surprised intake of breath. That is, until Jayne seizes the edge of a surgical tray and sends it spinning across the lab, smashing, leaving glass shards and strewn metal implements in its wake. There is success in rage -- something a mercenary already knows -- because it does make Simon turn back.

Jayne breathes hard as he gazes down on Simon, scanning his features for any trace of emotion. Finding none. His hand half-clenches into a fist and the moment seesaws on the edge of becoming dark and ugly, and then Jayne spins on his heel and stumps out.

stupid girl by jaeYou are just smart enough to know how stupid you are.

Written in second person singular, which I often believe has been created for the sole purpose of annoying me, this is a very evocative story.

Unless my English just went to hell and evocative doesn't mean what I think it does.

Ahem.

I like this story for three things. A) It's well written. B) It's a very good exploration of Britney. C) I sympathize with this Britney.

This story hurts.

Then they let you read the interviews. You read the words on the page, somehow flatter and cheaper than the glossy bright pictures of you next to them. It always takes you a while to order your thoughts, to think about the question and then think about what you want to say. In the interviews, your pauses were stretched out and filled with the snappy snippy thoughts of the writers, college girls all. The thin chatter you used to fill those pauses when they became too awkward sounded a lot less charming filtered through those smart girls' pens. The meaner ones transcribed it word for word. You read the interviews again and again. You memorized the worst ones. You hadn't thought you were quite that stupid.

The story is split up in sections headed by questions Jae has adapted "from actual questions Britney has been asked. The first and fourth question were asked at a Jive roundtable teleconference reported in Salon. The second question was from a different interview, also reported in Salon. The other questions are asked all the time."

Even if you're rabidly against all things Real People Fiction, you should ignore that just once, for this story.

Transfigurations by ResonantThe fifth stall in the men's washroom at King's Cross station had had a "Closed For Repairs" sign on the door since 1973.

It took me a little while to get into this fic, I must admit, but when I got into it, I finished the whole story in one sitting. The story itself is written in a pretty straight forwards way, with ideas and discriptions which rival JKR's own.

In other words, much amusement to be had.

The story starts with Harry returning to Britain after years in the States to teach at Hogwarts, which is opening again for the first time since the war against Voldemort ended.

I'm not sure I agree with most of the characterizations -- they're not how I see the characters -- but they work in the story, and I can see where they're coming from, so it's not an incredibly Out Of Character story at all.

What I found to be the most fascinating with this fanfic, is the other types of magic used, like voodoo, native American and Latin American. I feel like it makes the HP world more (and this will sound dumb, but) organic somehow.

Malfoy was kneeling by the girl, whose heels were drumming on the floor. "Petrificus Totalus," he said, and she fell still. He looked up at McGonagall. "Kitty, get these bloodthirsty little boggarts out of the way, will you, while I --"

McGonagall herded the students back as Malfoy began to murmur in a soft, slurred voice. Harry tensed, but then recognized the words as transfiguration spells -- Malfoy was turning the chair into a stretcher. He still pronounced his spells like a native speaker, all elisions and dropped endings. Harry's spells were perfectly functional, but compared to Malfoy, he had always felt as though he were reading the words out of a phrasebook.

The girl's eyes were still open, moving wildly, and in her arms and hands and jaw Harry could see muscles clenching against the restraint of the spell. His eyes fell on someone's boiled egg, shell still unbroken. He snatched it and knelt on the girl's other side, running it over her face and murmuring, feeling a faint tingle under his fingers. Tyndall de Soto, the Coven's specialist in Latin American magic, had taught him to pull enchantment into an egg, and apparently the spell worked even when the egg was breakfast.

He was dimly aware of Malfoy on the other side of the girl, still tapping the chair with his wand and murmuring. The stretcher began to sprout wheels, then bands to hold the girl's arms and legs. She stopped tensing just as Malfoy's last words transfigured her rather gaudy necklace into a pillow to cradle her head.

Harry put the egg in Malfoy's hand. "Tell Sofia it was boiled. She may still be able to interpret the yolk. If she hasn't done it before, I can help when we're done with crowd control."

What I see as the main plotlines in Transfigurations are Harry's estrangement from the others and the struggle to make Hogwarts safe again.

This is a Harry/Draco story, but the slash is hardly the point of it. This is an action story much more than it is a relationship story. Personally, I'm glad about that.

My favorite characters in this, are Snape and Dumbledore. No, really. They're most shiny, I promise.

There's one particular bit I really like about Draco's characterization, though.

Malfoy was turning the chair into a stretcher. He still pronounced his spells like a native speaker, all elisions and dropped endings.

This is a story which relies on the strenght of the characters, and, to a degree, the reader's familiarity with the characters. I suppose it's quite doable to read the story knowing fuck-all about Methos (the Highlander) or Alex Krycek (X-Files), but for me, much of the enjoyment came from seeing how two characters I like interact and, in this story, relate to each other.

The story is written in an untraditional manner, but it's easy to follow, and it works very well.

He knew what he was. He knew he was Immortal ("we live, we fight. I can teach you"). He had old memories, memories of the past ("come on, Mackie boy, it's all in fun!"), a little... faded, but there.

("Tonight it ends--") He fell to his knees, riding out the pain. He ran his hands through his hair and found, in the back, a circle of stubble shorter than the rest. He touched his forehead and felt a dimple in the middle of his brow.

Oh.

("You'll never take me alive, coppers!") He'd been shot in the head.

To be honest, I'm not quite sure where Basingstoke got the parathesised (?) dialogue from, but some of it sounds familiar, so it might very well be from episodes of the Highlander and X-Files. Or just very nice bits of fanfiction.

While Alex struggles to regain his memory, we're in the Highlander world, but as Alex starts to remember, we move into X-Files territory. Very smoothly done. Smooth transition.

I liked this story because it showed me a Methos and a Krycek I could believe in, as well as having a plot that was interesting and didn't feel like it had been used many, many times before. Not that the plots in themselves are all that new and inventive, but Basingstoke's writing makes them fresh and, as I said, interesting.

And, it's deeply amusing at times.

"It wouldn't surprise you to hear that I was a bootmaker; why be surprised to hear that I was an assassin?" Methos said, stretched out across two chairs. "Killing people is much easier than making boots."

Amanda, Duncan, Joe and Mulder also have substantial parts in the story. I'm a bit weirded out by the characterization of Mulder, but honestly speaking I haven't seen X-Files since season 5 or something, so for all I know, he's dead-on canon.

Hey all. *waves* Relocated to livejournal because it seems like a good idea. All fanfic recommendations made here, will be archived on Blue Laces archives either monthly or bi-monthly, depending on my mood and how many recs I've made.

This time around, I babble about three stories which have alread been recced around the rec-ciruit (IE on pages affiliated with wereadshite). I'll try to be more original next time, honest.